Nowadays
by 808tenshi
Summary: AU. ShizNat in the technological age. One-shot.


**Disclaimer:** The Mai-HiME series' are property of Sunrise and their respective owners. This is a fan-work.

**Theme/Prompt:** Laptop

Unbeta'ed- This work was brought to you today by the letter "F". Sponsored in-part by the random objects lying around Aki's desk.

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**Nowadays**

Have you ever felt, that people existed, solely, for the purpose of occupying space? That humanity was nothing more than hopeless, pathetic, doomed, walking blobs of contradictions and hypocrisy? For me, all of the above were true. But, what irritates me the most, are those people who tout moronic things like "True Love" and "Soul Mate."

What a load.

"Love" is nothing more than Lust with a pretty bow tied on top of it. Whether you use that bow to tie up your captive or blindfold them is your own business. Yet, everyone I talk to claims to believe in the romanticized version of it.

Human beings are such fools.

Since Darwin, it's been a fact: Evolution will happen. Now, in the age of technology, who needs people or social skills? Whatever you desire is a click away.

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Tapping listlessly at my keys, I pause for a moment, changing my focus on the screen, ignoring the text in the background so that I am met with a mirror of myself. A strand of my hair falls across my face; the thin, black lock slices through the green of my iris on the screen for a moment, before I brush it away.

I'm tried and bored.

Though I have access to an ever expanding frontier of information, it's pretty amazing how quickly I run out of things to do. Most of the time I end up spacing.

A pop-up ad flashes on the screen, blurring out my image as I refocus to click it away.

"Come and chat with other fun and exciting people!"

The ad blinks furiously, demanding that some part of my mind and sight take in what it's saying.

"It's fun and FREE!"

It's strange. Out of all the times that'd I'd carelessly click something like that away, this time, I stopped.

My finger rests atop my mouse, whose curser is already poised over the small red-boxed 'x'.

What the hell?

The minute, white arrow slides toward the center of that ad as I click it, resting my chin in my palm as I wait to be redirected.

As the site materializes, my first thought is that it looks horribly ostentatious, as though its designer was trying too hard to make it look hip and cool, without having any idea what that entailed. Still, my anti-virus hadn't popped up with a warning, and surprisingly, there aren't any porn advertisements gracing boarders my screen.

Typing in my standard username: Duran, I begin to acquaint myself with the site's layout.

I scan the room listings, not wanting to intrude on some private rendezvous or furry convention. Finally deciding, I clicked into a dual occupant room, which it's creator had tagged with some stupid smiley-face emoticon. What with the person limitation and the stupid face, I figured that I'd at least be able to have some fun messing around with the poor, lonely, perverted soul that surely lurked there.

_Bubuzuke: Good evening. :)_

First contact; the message pinged as I entered the room. I blinked to myself. A pervert who uses good grammar? That was a first. And what the hell was up with that name?

Fingers moving quickly with well-practiced, thoughtless ease, I responded back, testing the waters.

_Duran: Hey. _

_Bubuzuke: How are you today? _

Really, what? I blinked again, honestly surprised now. Two lines and no sex proposition? No "three sizes"? I typed slowly now, suddenly nervous that I may be talking to a sane human being. Misspelling after misspelling; my finger raps against the backspace button several times before I complete my next sentence.

_Duran: I'm pretty good. _

_Bored. _

_How about you?_

A mere second.

_Bubuzuke: I'm fine.  
Hahaha._

I don't even know what to say after that. It's stupid--how can I be at a loss for words just because it _wasn't _a pervert I was talking to. I sit, and somehow the silence becomes uncomfortable.

It's funny how there are actually awkward silences when you're not even physically talking to someone.

_Bubuzuke: So, does Mr. Duran come here often? I don't think I've seen this username before. _

Mister? Though I know no harm was intended, I couldn't help but feel riled at the fact that the other person would assume I was a man.

_Duran: I'm a girl._

_Bubuzuke: Forgive me. I just assumed. ^^; _

_I'm a girl as well. _

I'm not sure I needed to know that last bit, but somehow it made me a feel a little better, that at least for sure, I wasn't talking to a guy who was out to cyber with whatever, or whomever, he could find. I mean, a guy wouldn't admit to being a girl unless he had some asinine plan, which… I shook my head, no… thinking like one of them would be the death of me.

_Duran: That's cool._

"Oh, yeah, Natsuki," I thought to myself as I finally understood the 'face palm' catchphrase, "that was the cool thing to say."

_Bubuzuke: May I ask where your name is from? It isn't Japanese. _

_And, at the risk of sounding like a pervert… a/s/l? ;)_

I'm not sure how it worked--how the tone of her voice seemed audible, how pixels invoked an actual emotion, or even really why I did it--but as I grinned at my screen, I couldn't help but feel that I was smiling back at her.

_Duran: You first._

_----_

Now that I think about it, I'm can't even really remember what we talked about that first night. Or really, what we talk about any night, not unless I try really hard.

I'm not sure how I came to consider her a friend, or why I keep going to that site every night, waiting for her, in the room marked with a smiley-face, now pass-coded with a word only we know.

It's been a while now, since we first met. And now, I know that her name's Fujino Shizuru and that she's a year my senior. I know her favor color, her favorite food, and where her username came from. I even know her cell number; not, that we call each other often. And, she knows all that stuff about me.

I'm not sure why I feel sad if she's not there when I sign on, or why we leave each other mails when we won't be able to make it on that night.

It's strange, she knows things I'd never tell anyone else. How, what she types can actually make me laugh out loud, or get upset. And, how, despite the fact that she can't see me or hear my voice, she can tell if something's wrong, or what mood I'm in. Don't people always say you can't believe anything you read on the internet? Yet, the things that I believe the most, are those words floating on my screen.

I'm not sure what's going on anymore, or why I feel the way I do.

In any case, I'm sure it's not that fabled "Love". No, that surely doesn't exist. But, some time along the road, I started to think… that maybe, she's a person worth meeting.

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**A/N-** This work we done in accordance with my tit-for-tat agreement with Eagle8819, who again, provided the prompt. It's not in my usually style, and was done more for my personal amusement rather than for the sake of public approval. I apologize if it's OOC.

**Eagle8819-** BOOYAH.

Feel free to correct, laugh or flame. If not, thanks for reading.

Now, excuse me while I crawl back under my rock.


End file.
